


A Monster

by Helenatrix



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 06:38:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14910234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helenatrix/pseuds/Helenatrix
Summary: Kenny Ackerman was, for all intents and purposes, a monster: a living, breathing leviathan of a man. Someone to be feared, the fuel for nightmares, a dangerous shadow slipping through the underground like a phantom, hungry for blood, desperate to feed on the souls of those who would least expect it. Yet even monsters had their weaknesses, predilections that would render them powerless should they be allowed to do so.





	A Monster

**Author's Note:**

> Hi Friends! 
> 
> Another Kenny fic - because you know how I love to write Kenny :)  
> This one is really meant as a glimpse into how Levi grew up - and into the man that raised him. 
> 
> Spoilers for Attack on Titan Season 3 and the manga. 
> 
> No real warnings here. This takes place in the same universe as Beautiful Mess/Violent Desire and Man of Action but there aren't any mentions of a relationship.

Kenny Ackerman was, for all intents and purposes, a monster: a living, breathing leviathan of a man. Someone to be feared, the fuel for nightmares, a dangerous shadow slipping through the underground like a phantom, hungry for blood, desperate to feed on the souls of those who would least expect it. Yet even monsters had their weaknesses, predilections that would render them powerless should they be allowed to do so.

Kuchel had always been Kenny’s soft spot. He hadn’t seen his little sister in years…part of him wondered if it hadn’t been on purpose, in an effort to rid himself of any reminders of his life before, of the weaknesses that would hold him back. He still remembered the sound of her voice, the way the dim light of day would color her black hair, make it shimmer and sparkle. Kuchel had always been his sunshine in a world below ground, his calm amid the chaotic storm of his mind. As a child, he had wanted to shield her from the harsh realities of the world, the cruel hand of their father. He had thought of himself as her protector. But as an adult, he had lost contact with her…assumed she would have found a way to get herself to the surface, to make a better life for herself. Someone so bright, so vibrant, should never have been resigned to a life below ground in the darkness.

Life for Kenny hadn’t been easy, but he made his way in it, fought for survival, and learned how to endure. It was a skill he had perfected on his own, through trials and tribulations, betrayals and disappointments. He was hardened, even feared. He had a reputation for violence and it was one he had earned. With nothing of Kuchel’s charm, nothing of her vigor or brightness, Kenny had relied on brute strength, cunning and a propensity for cruelty. And in doing so, he had thrived.

Kenny had killed his first man at twelve. He supposed it had been on accident, the result of a robbery gone wrong. But he hadn’t felt any guilt or remorse over it. Perhaps that made him some sort of psychopath…a monster well-suited for a life underground. Every life he took after that was just another notch in his belt, another piece of shit of which the world would be rid. Slowly, he developed a skill, a skill he could hire out, use to make a living in this cruel world. He was good at violence…so he sold it to the highest bidder and made himself decent earnings, comfortable earnings. And for once, he wanted for nothing.

During that time of prosperity and infamy, he thought of Kuchel often, wondered what her life was like, where she was, who she was with. Kuchel had fled their family home when she had turned sixteen, never looking back. And in a way, Kenny blamed himself for not being there to protect her. He had to believe that she was somewhere better, with someone who loved her, in order to stop himself from feeling the shame of abandoning her, leaving her to the daily beatings and unkind words of their father.

But the place he inevitably found his younger sister would forever be burned into his memory.

Kenny didn’t often frequent the brothels of the underground. He found no need for the comfort of women…or men for that matter. The lust for blood was stronger for him in many ways than lusts of the flesh. Sex had never been a strong motivator for him – though a virgin he was not. Kenny Ackerman could have anyone he wanted, any way he wanted them. All he had to do was snap his fingers and they would come crawling. That was the power of notoriety, the power of…well… _power_.

But that particular day, Kenny felt a craving deep in his bones, a desire slitting throats seemed incapable of satisfying. It was an ache in his groin, a pain in his chest…he supposed it had been a while for him. And with a deep sigh of resignation, he had sidled into the nearest brothel, put a sack full of money on the counter in front of him and delivered his most charming smile to the large mustachioed man who met him.

“Yer best woman, good ser,” Kenny’s voice was a deep vibrato, fueled by the heat of his lust.

The man’s eyes glittered at the bag of gold dropped within arm’s reach.  His eyes connected with Kenny’s then and he stepped forward, extended a hand, a smirk peering out from under that prodigious brown mustache. “Charles Ambrose. This is my establishment. And I think I have exactly what you’re looking for.”

“Well that’s the best news I have heard all day.” Kenny took Ambrose’s hand, shook it while glancing around the room, observing the women who flitted around like coy hummingbirds, flirting with the patrons, flashing breasts and sets of shining teeth.

“I’ll show you to Olympia’s room,” Ambrose slipped a hand around Kenny’s shoulders, ushered him to the back of the house. Each step Kenny took resounded in his heart…in his groin. The anticipation of the walk caused a violent wave of desire to course through his veins, to fuel the fire in his blood.

Ambrose sidled up to a plain wood door, off the main room. It was private, mostly sequestered, completely secluded. “Olympia’s feeling a bit shy today,” Ambrose chuckled and Kenny’s skin burned. “Knock first…she’ll be ready for you.”

And then Ambrose left him alone with the racing of his heart, the churning of his stomach. He knocked on Olympia’s door. A moment passed before an elegant, melodic voice beckoned from within. “Come in.”

He opened the door to long, flowing black hair. Her back was to him and she didn’t look up as he entered. He shut the door behind him, could hear his own breath catch in his throat. The smell of the room was roses…gentle, floral, though the room itself was simple, plain. A bed and two nightstands sat against the wall, the woman’s frail form upon the bed.

“Olympia? Heard yer a bit shy…No need to be shy with Kenny…”

And she whirled around then, assessed him with gray eyes wide in shock. His breath caught in his throat and for a moment he thought his heart might actually stop from the sheer trauma of his surprise. “Kuchel?”

She stood, her small, delicate hands clutching at her chest. “Kenny…”

They both remained frozen in their tracks, observing one another, taking in the great, awful coincidence that had brought them back together. Kenny spoke first, his hands trembling at his sides. “Kuchel, what’re ya doing here? Tell yer not a….”

She looked down, avoiding the harsh judgment in his eyes. “I make good money, Kenny…and it’s a better life…

Kenny gaped at her. “The life of a whore is a better life?”

Her steel-colored eyes hardened, narrowed. “I didn’t have a choice, Kenny. What would you have had me do? I had nowhere else to go. And where were you? I haven’t seen hide or tail of you in years…I’ve heard the stories though…”

Kenny felt himself redden, felt his collar tighten. It was one thing to have his name become legend…quite another to have his sister know about all the wrongdoings he had committed, all the lives he had taken. “What’ve ya heard?”

“Kenny the hitman…Kenny the crook…if you want somebody dead, Kenny Ackerman’s your guy…” He’d heard the words before but they settled in his stomach like a thick wave of nausea to hear them come from Kuchel’s mouth. “Why are _you_ here, Kenny? Do I have a bounty on my head as well?”

Kenny’s gray eyes flashed dangerously. “No…yer a whore…and I came here for the same reason any man in this fucking shit hole does…to get laid by a whore!” He wanted to choke back the words as soon as they slipped from his lips. He shook his head, couldn’t meet the anger in her eyes. “Goddamn, Kuchel…I don’t want to fight with ya. I just…” He took the wide brimmed hat from his head, scratched his head. “I thought you’da gotten outta here by now.”

“You know it’s not that easy, Kenny. You know that.” Her voice was gentle then, as it always was when it replayed through his memories. But as he looked at her face, he saw sadness there, defeat.

“I…I always thought it would be easy for you, Chel…”

She smiled at his use of that name, the name he had used for her in their childhood together. But that sadness still remained. He hated to see it on her face. It was a desolate, hopeless sorrow, it seemed to permeate through her very soul. Was this who she was now?

“You know better, Kenny. You always wanted to believe that things would be different for me. Different for me than they were for mother…but there are only two ways out of the underground for a woman…”

“A man or a body bag…” Kenny nodded, looking away. “I thought you would have found someone to take care of you, Chel…”

“I take care of myself,” she snapped and Kenny felt a pain in his chest.

“I…I can take care of ya.” His voice was weak, quiet. He knew it was a lie. Kenny wasn’t capable of taking care of anyone but himself. And she saw through his words as though they were a pane of glass.

“Don’t be foolish, Kenny.”

“I can. I’ll take ya back home with me. I’ll look out for ya.”

“You can’t. I owe Ambrose a debt.”

“I’ll pay for it. Or I’ll kill him. I’m good for either.” Kenny wasn’t sure why he was arguing with her. It felt like an obligation, like something he should be doing.

“This is my life now…besides, you don’t need to be responsible for two more mouths to feed.” Her hands went to her belly and Kenny’s mouth dropped. He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t seen it before. The small, round pouch that protruded out from her flowing dress.

“Two?”

Kuchel’s was beautiful. He had always known the true extent of that beauty. But now, in this space, amid all the austerity, she was glowing…her cheeks pink, full, aflush. “I’m pregnant, Ken.”

Kenny gawped, his mouth open, his eyes huge orbs of disbelief. “Yer joking…” Though he knew she wasn’t. She shook her head and he demanded, “What are ya gonna do?”

She raised a dark eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Yer not gonna _keep_ it?” He heard the incredulity in his voice, saw his sister’s face darken at his suggestion. “Kuchel…be smart about this…ya really want to bring a kid into this fucked up world?”

Kuchel studied him, her eyes flickering to his eyes, to his lips. Slowly, her face softened. “He’s a fighter, like you Ken. I can feel it. I have to give him the chance to make his own way. To live a better life than we’ve lived…”

Kenny saw the sincerity in her face, the gentle hands cradling her belly. He couldn’t begin to guess what the world would have in store for the tiny human growing inside his sister. But he knew she had made up her mind. He leaned against the wall, allowed his body to trail down it until he slumped on the floor. He put his head in his hands. “What…the…fuck…” He sighed heavily, breathed out all the shit, all the grime, all the heaviness.

He heard her soft footsteps as she moved towards him, sat next to him on the floor. She placed her head on his shoulder and Kenny realized this was the first time his sister had touched him in years. He heard her quiet exhale, put an arm around her, pulled her closer, the warmth of her nearness placating him.

“You sure you know what yer doing? Yer not scared?”

“I’m terrified,” was her response. “But I’ve never been more sure.”

He sat there beside her, holding her in his arms for what felt like hours. Silence fell around them and Kenny was struck at the gravity of that moment in time, on the floor of a whorehouse next to his pregnant sister. He didn’t want to let her go, didn’t want to leave her to this life she had chosen. But they were both trapped in the ebb and flow of their realities, bound to the turmoil of the lives they had made for themselves. She, an underground whore. He, a paid assassin. Two buds from the same root, growing up without sunlight, without tenderness, amongst weeds and thorns. And for the first time for the long time, Kenny felt like less of a monster, something more of a man.

He wanted to tell her he loved her, but the words fell silent on his tongue. He wanted to tell her he would protect her, but he knew it was a promise he could not keep. He wanted to tell her he would come back for her, but it tasted bitter and he decided not to say something so foolish, so hollow. Instead, he allowed himself to exist beside her, not knowing it would be the last time he would ever do so. The last time he would ever see her alive.

The years passed by and Kenny avoided Ambrose’s whore house, avoided prostitutes in general. His taste for them had been ruined – he had Kuchel to thank for that. And though he often wanted to, he couldn’t bring himself to visit her, to stop back in and see her, to meet the child she had been so determined to keep.

During this time, Kenny created a name for himself in the underground, a name that inspired him, encouraged him, gave him meaning and purpose. Kenny the Ripper. Every MP throat he slashed felt like a victory. He wasn’t a hero. He was an anti-hero of sorts, a vigilante delivering his own specific brand of justice. And this moniker spread around the underground like wildfire.

Kenny the Ripper, the serial killer who cut through hundreds of MP’s like butter.

Kenny the Ripper, the monster no man could kill.

Kenny the Ripper, the villain who fought for the people.

He was a god to them. They worshipped at the altar of Kenny the Ripper, prayed to him, cried out their thanks when he killed those who would keep them oppressed, abused, silent.

High on power, after years of avoiding her and the brat she had whelped, Kenny decided it was time to pay his sister a visit, to rescue her from the underground brothel she called home. He had the resources at his disposal now, the prestige behind his name. He could do it. Would do it. He had friends in high places and could protect her long enough to get her to the surface, to a new life, a new world.

But when he asked Ambrose for Olympia, a disheveled patron in the back, drunk off his ass and stinking of disease and filth choked out, “Olympia? She ain’t for sale anymore. Somebody got her sick a while back.”

Kenny’s eyes darted from the drunk to Ambrose and Ambrose shrugged. “We have plenty of other healthy, beautiful women to choose from. Perhaps you would be interested in one of those instead?”

“Kuchel,” Kenny growled. And Ambrose’s eyes darkened at the name. “She dead?”

Realization dawned on Ambrose’s smarmy features and he quieted. Said nothing. Just stared defiantly back at Kenny.

Kenny’s hands were balled in fists. “And the kid?”

Ambrose raised an eyebrow. “You’re interested in the _child_? He’s a touch young but I suppose I would be willing to consider a generous offer…”

“I won’t be purchasing him.” Kenny’s voice was cold. “I’ll be taking him off your hands. Permanently.”

Ambrose had put up a fight but, in the end, Kenny got his way. As he always did.

Seeing his sister’s corpse on the bed, seeing her lips pulled back from her teeth, her skin pale and stretched over his skull, wrecked Kenny. It was a sight that had burned itself into his brain, a memory that would often visit him late in the night when sleep would not come. Even years later.

“She’s dead.”

The kid was tiny. He should have been…four, five? But he was skin and bones, small in stature, huddled in a ball in the corner of the room. Did Ambrose feed him? Did anyone care that he was locked in a room with only his mother’s corpse for company?

“Ya got a name, kid?”

“Levi. Just Levi.”

“Works for me. I’m Kenny. Just Kenny. Nice to meet ya.” And Kenny hesitated then, unsure of what else to say. “I…I was a friend of yer mom’s.”

That seemed to placate the kid. For some reason, Kenny couldn’t bring himself to tell Levi that Kuchel had been his sister, his weakness, and that her death ripped his heart from his chest, stamped it into the dirt. And in that moment, he resolved himself to put up a barrier, to keep that information from Levi…as a kindness to both of them. Let Kenny be Kuchel’s friend, the stranger who pulled Levi from that destitution and despair. It was best that the kid not know the truth of who he was.

Kenny had no idea what he was going to do with this puny, little runt. This kid who had clearly never seen the outside of the room in which he was born. Barely more than a corpse himself, frail and weak, Levi would never survive a day on his own. And abandoned to Ambrose’s care, he was likely to be sold, starved, perhaps even killed. Kenny wasn’t well suited for compassion, for guardianship…but he couldn’t leave Levi there. Couldn’t abandon him to live and die in this cruel world. This dark, evil world had destroyed Kuchel Ackerman, chewed her up and spit her out. It wouldn’t be an easy road, but Kenny could not allow Kuchel’s brat to suffer the same fate she had suffered.

Levi had tested Kenny’s patience nearly immediately. How someone so small could be so stubborn, so unwilling to accept instruction, so filled with rage, was beyond him. And he was…strong. Stronger than he should have been. It made no logical sense to Kenny. When Kenny tried to train him, he was insubordinate. When he tried to teach him, he ignored his coaching.

“Gimme yer hand.” Kenny had held out his own, waited patiently for Levi to comply. He rarely did. Without warning, Kenny smacked the side of Levi’s head, his open hand slapping the kid’s ear. Levi barely made a sound, just glared at Kenny in response to being hit. Slowly, defiantly, he held out his small hand, allowed Kenny to take it.

 _“Thank you,”_ Kenny chided. He moved in closer, sidled behind Levi and put a delicate silver knife into the boy’s fist. This particular knife was one of Kenny’s favorites. Small, easy to conceal. He wrapped his hand around Levi’s, showed him how to place his fingers, how to grip the weapon, how to swing it and thrust it. Then he backed away. “Go on, kid.”

And he watched in awe as Levi moved with the knife as if guided by a puppeteer’s strings. His movements were so fluid, so agile, so natural, it was as if he had born with the innate desire to kill. Holding the knife seemed to give him a confidence he hadn’t had before, and he danced with it, nimble, quick, deadly.

“Goddamn, Levi. Yer a natural. You ever held one of these before?”

Cognizant then of Kenny’s eyes on him, Levi froze. The knife, still in his hand, fell at his side. “No…” he said. Kenny smiled.

“Well yer gonna. From now on. Lesson number one: Always keep a knife on ya. Never go anywhere without it. And never let anyone know ya have it. Ya never know when yer gonna need it.”

Levi raised an eyebrow, studying Kenny. His eyes fell to the knife in his hand and an almost imperceptible smirk passed over his lips. The kid was quiet, but he wasn’t dumb. He was always thinking, always assessing, always making notes in that little brain of his. It was almost…endearing…to Kenny.

“Wish I woulda had this when…” Levi’s voice trailed off.

“When, bud?”

“When Mr. Ambrose hurt her…” Levi wouldn’t meet his eyes and Kenny was glad for that. He didn’t know what to say so he stood and ruffled the thick black hair on Levi’s head. “Keep practicing, kiddo.”

As the weeks passed, Levi grew stronger, fuller, more obstinate. Kenny begrudged himself the patience he often lost. He hated himself for every bruise he left on the kid’s pale skin, for every cut, every push, every backhand. But violence was a teacher and pain a lesson. And Levi was _learning_. Learning to survive.

“Lesson number two: never show yer weakness.”

Levi’s tears had dried up within the first week. Kenny had heard his snuffles in the darkness of the middle of the night, had rolled over to wipe them off his cheeks with forceful hands. “Don’t give them anything to hold against you. If you have no weaknesses, they can’t be used to hurt you.” And that was the last time Kenny had heard those small little sobs. Levi’s face slowly became a blank canvas, a cold and emotionless façade.

 “Lesson number three: never trust anyone. Especially not me.”

Kenny had watched his nephew be caught during one of his hastily planned raids, had abandoned him to be beaten with an inch of life by the shop keep from whom they were stealing. Another lesson. One that was harder for Kenny to teach. But he had to let the kid learn…the hard way. If he wasn’t fast enough, if he didn’t blend in with his surroundings, if he allowed himself to get caught, he would die. Kenny could not allow Levi to trust in the sympathy of others. Could not allow him to think that Kenny would always be there to protect him.

The bruises had colored Levi’s face and body for weeks afterwards. But he never showed any pain, never displayed any shame and instead wore the marks like badges of honor. He was growing more proud every day.

“Lesson number four: in this world, it’s better to be feared than loved. If they fear ya, they respect ya. And love doesn’t exist. Not really…”

As the weeks turned into months and months into years, Levi grew, if ever so slightly, from little boy into young man. His eyes sharpened, his skills surprised even Kenny. He became a living, breathing threat. A monster after Kenny’s own heart. A child made of fire and brimstone, a demon born to the underground. 

“Lesson number five: If ya want it, ya take it. And ya kill anyone who dares say otherwise.”

There were weeks wherein Kenny suspected the starvation he was forcing on Levi was borderline cruel. But by serving the kid a meal, by providing him with food for which he didn’t have to work, Kenny knew he was dooming him. Levi needed to know that if he wanted to eat, he needed to be able to procure that food himself, that if he didn’t want to starve, he needed to be able to scrounge, to fight, to win…no matter the odds. So, with a forceful hand, Kenny had thrown Levi out on the streets and commanded that he didn’t return until he was able to bring something back with him. It was cruel but it was necessary.

And Levi had become adept at stealing, his fingers quick and greedy. Slowly, he learned how to blend into his surroundings, how to make himself invisible. He was a tiny ghost, haunting the underground and taking whatever he wanted, whether that be food, money, or something as simple as a pair of shoes, a new shirt, a pair of scissors with which he would learn to cut his own hair.

“Lesson number six: ya don’t stop fighting til yer dead. Or until the other guy is.”

Levi’s fists were powerful and his mouth smart. It was a winning combination. Just enough insolence to provoke a fight and just enough control to finish it.  Kenny lost track of the times Levi had come back to their hovel with blood on his knuckles and two blackened eyes. But he always came back.

“Lesson number seven: Anticipate yer opponent. Study ‘em, research ‘em, make ‘em yer specimen.”

It was how Levi always won. No one could put a hand on him. And every move made was predicted as though Levi knew his challengers better than they knew themselves. He himself was impulsive, volatile, erratic yet somehow controlled at all times. Kenny watched Levi grow into a younger version of himself, a natural predator, dangerous, formidable, respected, feared. 

“Lesson number eight: Never hesitate. Act first, ask questions later.”

Levi’s hands were fast, his movements agile. And he never faltered, never wavered. He was always the first to take action, the first to raise his fist, the first to strike a blow.

“Lesson number nine: Kill or be killed. Don’t be afraid of takin’ a life.”

The first time Levi had taken a life had been on Kenny’s command. At the age of nine, Levi was still being bullied, as kids in the underground often were and to make it worse, Levi was small. In a world where size meant everything, where it was fight or die, Levi looked like an easy target. He was often followed home, jumped, mugged, robbed, beaten. It was only ever in large groups that Levi could be overpowered though. The fuckers were cowards – bigger boys who were too afraid to take on little Levi one-on-one. So, Kenny decided to put a stop to it.

He rounded the boys up. At least four of them. And he forced the knife into Levi’s hand, though Levi’s gray eyes were soft, beseeching, imploring, begging for another way.

 “There is no other way!” Kenny had grabbed a handful of that thick black hair and wrenched those pathetic eyes to meet his own. “They’ll never stop and one day, they’ll go too far. They’ll kill ya. Do ya want to live or don’t ya?” Resignation and realization set into those cold steel eyes. Kenny could hear the pleading of those underground street urchins as Levi thrust his knife deep into their bellies, killed them all one after another. And after that night, after the boys’ bodies were found in the gutters of the underground, the bullying stopped.

Kenny knew he was a monster. But that was the only way to live, to make a way for one’s self in this world. The world was cruel, wicked, cursed. And to live, Levi needed to become a monster too. There was no time for him to grow up, no time for him to adjust. And Kenny couldn’t leave until he knew that Levi could take care of himself.

“Lesson number ten: Don’t form attachments. Not to anyone, not to anything. The only thing that should matter to ya is yer life. Everything else is replaceable.”

The day Kenny decided to leave Levi behind was not an easy one for him. He woke up that morning in a foul mood. And Levi knew it. Usually, when he sensed Kenny’s irritation bubbling to the surface, Levi would make himself scarce, get out of his way. But that morning, Levi seemed determine to get under Kenny’s skin.

Kenny set out a hunk of bread, their typical breakfast, and Levi stabbed it with his knife, digging the blade into the stale loaf, wearing down the sharp edge.

Kenny slammed his fist on the table and Levi barely reacted, his cold gray eyes raising to meet Kenny’s. “The fuck ya thinking? Yer dulling the blade, ya impudent ungrateful little shit!” Kenny reached out and snatched the knife up with tremendous force, brought it to his face to examine the edge.

“Give it back,” Levi snarled and Kenny’s eyes narrowed.

“You think ya deserve to have it back?” He moved to pocket it and Levi lunged around the table. Kenny kicked out, knocking Levi back. The kid scrambled back to his feet and Kenny forcefully backhanded him across the face, stunning him to submission. “You’ll get it back when ya show yer worthy of having it! Ya pathetic little shit! Are you a man or aren’t ya? Cuz right now, yer acting like the baby I carried out of Ambrose’s whorehouse seven years ago.”

Levi wiped blood from his lip, trailed his broken lip on his sleeve. Rage darted behind the dark gray, coloring those eyes almost black. He wasn’t used to losing anymore, Kenny knew. But Levi would never be a match for Kenny. Everything Levi knew, everything Levi was, it was all thanks to Kenny. And the master could never be defeated by the apprentice.

 “Get yer ass up,” Kenny grabbed Levi’s collar and whipped him to his feet. “We’re goin’ into town. Got an errand for ya.” Levi’s eyes never cleared, the shitty expression never waning from his face. Kenny didn’t care – let the kid be pissed. That was the way of the world – As long as Levi was small, as long as he allowed himself to be knocked around, he would be. _Get strong enough to beat me, or don’t try_ , Kenny thought as the runt rose to his feet and followed Kenny out of the door.

The streets of the underground were a disgusting maze of death, disease, and decay, the cobblestones paved with the blood of crimes past, with the decrepit bodies of dying and disabled human beings. Beggars lined every street corner, thugs hid down every alley. Levi followed along behind Kenny, hiding in his shadow, as close as the hatred that coursed through his veins would allow him to get. Kenny approached one of his favorite spots, a tavern in the heart of the underground called “Sister Anna’s.” The sign above the door depicted a priestess of the wall, holding a huge beer stein, huge breasts overflowing from her robes. “Stay outside,” Kenny spat at Levi. “Keep watch.”

Levi didn’t say anything, just leaned against the brick wall of the establishment, his dark hair hooding his eyes, his arms crossed over his chest. _Sullen little shit._

As Kenny entered the tavern, the place quieted down, all eyes settling on his tall form, his dark features. He sidled up to the bar, put his fist down gently on the thick grain and waved the bartender over. “Whiskey…” his voice was gruff.

“As usual…” a thick voice spoke over his shoulder and the shadow of an MP with thick black hair and a large twisted nose pulled up a stool next to him. “Kenny.”

“Sannes,” Kenny didn’t have to look up to know that those dull orbs of eyes were focused in on him, that that pinched face was set in a look of disgust and mild annoyance to have to be meeting with him. But that was the way of the world now. If the boss sent Sannes to the underground, Sannes would go to the underground.

“Boss has got a job for you, Kenny.” Sannes’s voice was a quiet murmur, barely louder than a whisper but Kenny’s ears were tuned in. He had been waiting for this.

“How much?” The glass was placed in front of him, a thick gold liquid glimmering in the dim light and Kenny placed it to his lips.

“He didn’t mention how much. Said you’d do it for the sheer pleasure…”

Kenny banged his glass on the bar and whipped around to face Sannes who stumbled back, nearly off his stool, in surprise. “Is the sheer pleasure gonna get me out of this stinking waste of a city?”

Sannes fumbled over his words before gaining some confidence. “Boss says he’ll bring you above ground for good. Make you a Captain in his Interior Squad. That’s what you want, right? Fucking underground rats always want to come up to the surface…”

Kenny’s eyes flashed. In one quick movement, he slammed Sannes’s face down on the bar, procuring a gasp of pain, a sharp intake of breath as Sannes struggled to right himself under Kenny’s firm grasp. But despite the minor agitation he felt at being insulted, Kenny could hardly contain his enthusiasm. This was it. His time. His passage to the surface. His was out of the underground.

He gave up his hold on Sannes and the MP slowly raised his head, brought his hands to his face, feeling, inspecting, making sure nothing important was broken or damaged.

“Another,” Kenny hollered at the barkeep, holding up his glass. Then he turned back to Sannes, his eyebrow raised. “What’s the job?”

“Some school teacher in Trost went running his mouth…spilling out theories…government secrets…Boss wants him disposed of.”

Kenny smirked. “You fancy MP’s can’t handle some puny school teacher? You need to bring the underground rat to the surface to kill a bookworm who hangs out with kids all day?”

“This is bigger than that, Ackerman. He _knows_ things. We need to figure out where he got that information…how many people he’s told...”

“Got it…kidnapping…torture…murder…all the unsightly tasks you don’t want to dirty your hands with.” He tossed back the whiskey in his glass. “When do we leave?”

Sannes snorted. “Boss wants you above ground today. We’re gonna pick him up after school.”

Today. Kenny’s heart chilled as he thought about Levi standing outside the bar, oblivious, unknowing. He pushed that thought to the back of his mind. _Fuck that puny runt._

Sannes dropped a few coins on the bar. “For your trouble, Kenny. Meet me at the stairwell in two hours.” He departed without looking back. Kenny was pleased to see Sannes place a hand on that large nose with a pained look as he exited the tavern.

“For _your_ trouble, Sannes,” he chuckled under his breath.

Levi was still out front when Kenny emerged. He felt a little woozy from the whiskey and Levi crinkled his nose, assuredly in response to the alcohol on his breath. “You stink, old man.”

Kenny actually laughed out loud at that. He might actually miss the kid. “C’mon. One more stop to make.”

The marketplace. The best place for buying…or stealing…knives and other valuable weapons. As Kenny trudged through the open square, he kept his eyes open, examining the wares. “If ya see something ya want, grab it.” His voice was a dangerous whisper. “But don’t get caught.”

He didn’t know how he was gonna break it to the kid. How he could be sure Levi was ready. So, Kenny remained silent, avoiding the inevitable. He had two hours to escape, to leave his nephew behind forever. To forge a new life for himself on the surface. Though he considered the option of taking Levi with him, he knew it wouldn’t be right. If Levi wanted that life, Levi would have to make it for himself. Kenny wasn’t a father, wasn’t a caretaker. The only person Kenny was responsible for was himself. Many times, Kenny had seen questions pass through Levi’s mind…questions about who Kenny was to him really…begging Kenny to tell him …but it wasn’t Kenny’s place to tell him, to make him feel like there could ever be something more than this strained, tense, fragile relationship they had built.  It was bound to break…

“Eh…eh you!” Kenny’s eyes jumped up to see a thick bearded man nearly jump over the stall in which he had displayed numerous weapons and trinkets. He whipped out a knife and brandished it, a growl burning forth from his throat. Levi. He’d gotten himself caught. The merchant had a thick grip on Levi’s wrist and with a forceful blow, Levi kicked out, slammed a boot into the merchant’s stomach before drawing back, his eyes a flame, on fire with rage.

Kenny wanted to yell, _the fuck did I tell ya? Ya go and get yerself caught ya little shit!_ But instead, he stayed silent instead and watched the scene unfold.

As the merchant jumped to his feet, the anger that flashed in his eyes coursed through his body, making him seem huge, almost five times Levi’s size. “You pathetic trash!” He lunged at Levi, landed a fist to the side of Levi’s face and knocked him back. “No…” the merchant stopped. “I know you…you’re Olympia’s kid, aren’t you? Where’s your lanky guardian, then?” And Levi’s eyes scanned the crowd for Kenny. He was allowing himself to get distracted and the merchant landed a kick to Levi’s side, knocking him back to the ground.

“What you mean, that big lug isn’t here to protect you?” Levi was quicker this time and narrowly avoided another boot, this time to his groin. He leapt to his feet, teeth bared. The merchant laughed.

Kenny realized now that the crowd had cleared out and formed a circle around the merchant and Levi, watching their confrontation with intrigued and curious eyes. He slunk back into the throng, still able to scrutinize Levi’s every move, undetected, hidden.

“Give me back what you took or I’ll hand you over to the MP’s…Or perhaps I’ll ship you back to Ambrose…make a profit off your skinny hide…”

Levi slashed out, cut through the fabric of the merchant’s sleeve and blood poured forth. “You fucking piece of shit!” The Merchant tore his arm back and clutched at the lesion like a wounded animal. “I’ll kill you! I’ll rip you open like I did your mother. That fucking whore was so used up and damaged, it’s a wonder she could even fuck anyone again after I got done with her!”

And Levi dove at him. There he was, the Levi Kenny had trained. The kid was so fast, so dangerous, so fucking merciless, Kenny felt a flush of arousal. _That’s my kid,_ he thought and immediately forced the notion into the back of his mind. Levi’s had abandoned the knife and his fists pounded on the flesh of the merchant’s face, breaking his nose, knocking teeth from his mouth. He was alight, on fire with rage. Blood was pooling on the ground. It covered Levi’s fists as he continued to beat them into the merchant’s face.

The merchant was out like a candle’s flame. Kenny was sure he wasn’t dead but if Levi continued with the ferocity and vigor with which he was now fighting, Kenny might have to intervene. Slowly though, Levi’s hands stilled. He wiped his face on his sleeve, sat back, pulled away from the man on the ground.

And Kenny knew. He was ready. He wasn’t a kid anymore. He was a man. And he was _ready_. He could take care of himself, didn’t need Kenny to protect him, to teach him, to lead him. Not anymore.  

Kenny pulled back into the crowd, took his hat off to hide it from view. And he strode away. Didn’t look back. He thought he could hear Levi’s voice….”Kenny?!” He was crying out for him. Like a fucking whelping pup crying out for its bitch of a mother. But Kenny didn’t look back.

It would be years before Kenny saw Levi again…above the ground, with the Wings of Freedom painted on the cloak that billowed around his shoulders. Seeing the man that boy had become set Kenny on fire, propelled him forward. Levi Ackerman had changed. Irrevocably, eternally. He was the monster Kenny had created…but different somehow. Behind those cold gray eyes was a purpose, a vigor, a thope…something Kenny could never have accounted for…something Kenny himself would never have. And though he wanted to deny himself the truth of it, Kenny was envious of that hope. Was it humanity that fueled that fire? Or was it something else entirely? A belief in a world without titans? Or a belief in the man who led that charge?

With a dying breath, Kenny breathed out Levi’s name. As he faded from this cruel world, his hand grasped at the shirt on Levi’s chest, the cravat that draped around his neck. Felt Levi’s body…he was there, he was real, he was flesh and bone. Under his other hand, the lifeblood he had stolen from Rod Reiss, the titan serum. His fingers ran along the edges of the box in which it lay, caressing it, daring himself to use it. Levi’s eyes darted to the serum before flickering back to Kenny’s face.

“Ackerman…that seems to be my name too…What were you to my mother?” The kid finally had the courage to ask.

Kenny laughed, spat out blood. It splashed on Levi’s face but the clean freak didn’t wipe it away. “Hah…ya idiot. I was…her brother.”

Realization dawned on those stoic features…features that reminded him so much of Kuchel. He was choosing his words cautiously now, hesitant, self-conscious as they spilled from his lips. It was the most unsure Kenny had seen him since…”That day…why did you leave me?”

 _Because I was selfish. Because I was a coward. Because I saw Kuchel every time I looked at you…Because I had become a slave to something bigger than all of that. “_ Because…I wasn’t fit to be some kid’s…father.”

In his last moments, Kenny realized the irony in his actions. He took the serum and he pressed it forcefully to Levi’s chest. Gave away all that power and with it, his enslavement.

He heard Levi say his name, thought he saw the glimmer of a tear form in his nephew’s eyes. It was Levi’s turn now. Kenny Ackerman had had the opportunity to fulfil his destiny, to truly become the monster he had always thought himself to be. But choosing to die, that was a much harder decision. One he couldn’t regret. For the first time in his entire life, Kenny Ackerman was a monster no more.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I think it's so important that even though Kenny is imperfect and at times cruel, he does have some feelings for Levi. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think :) This one was real fun to write. Oh how I love me some Kenny Ackerman!
> 
> Also - did you catch the Sannes/Mr. Smith reference?? You're all too smart and love the fandom as much as I do so I'm sure you did :)
> 
> Much love!


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